Am I the only one fucked up about this?

This is something I haven't talked about in a while...or ever I don't think. It's actually kind of depressing, but I hate it when people act like I don't understand abuse. Um, I was abused as a kid.

Mostly emotionally and verbally...that, I actually do talk about because it was by my dad. I can talk all day about his abuse for some reason. But who I don't talk about is my uncle L. That I can't talk about. It's so surreal because for a long time no one ever talked to me about it. I tried to tell my dad but he was on his own trip (literally) at the time and my mother was ineffective. And I damn sure couldn't talk to his family about it because they were getting abused also.

My mother worked nights so my dad would stay at home with me. But my dad worked out of town doing odd jobs to get money and he was also an alcoholic/drug addict at this time, so one way or another I'd usually end up being left alone with my cousins, my aunt R and my uncle L. L was, I realize, way more hardcore than my dad was. He was out of control and extremely violent. His kids were about teenaged at the time and I was about 9 to 11. He would hit them, beat them, beat his own wife, he almost made her miscarry his own damn child. Then my aunt would abuse her own children as well.

And then, you know, because I was in the house some of it would just get layered over to me. I wasn't actually hit but I saw things that still fuck with me to this day and I was so verbally and emotionally abused, between my uncle and my father I don't know why I'm just not committed somewhere.

I can't even tell you in words how horrible this was, and despite what I said (and my uncle ending up on the news one day), my parents would still have me spend the night at this man's house and even PAY them to babysit me on occasion. Over and over until one day I finally put my foot down to my mother when I was 11 and told her I wasn't spending another goddamned night at that man's house (not in so many words, I wish I would cuss my mother out). And while I learned how to fend for myself at home the cycle of abuse continued over at my cousin's until all his kids left and eventually uncle L was thrown out his house.

It's not that my parents didn't believe me. Mom still acknowledges what my uncle did, but she was just afraid to leave me at home alone in our neighborhood, which I understood. But I still don't understand why no one ever talked to me about this--it's so surreal I still question whether any of that shit ever happened. It couldn't have, could it? Even my cousins won't acknowledge it to me and just act like everything is all good and wonder why I don't speak to them.

So that's one of the many things in my life I haven't worked over and I wonder if I ever will. It still really disturbs me that everyone just acts like my uncle's abuse was normal. Comes with the territory of drug habit right? Right. So let's not talk about it at all and hide our scars, and move on. Easier said than done.